Point Blank Protector. Joanna Wayne

      He still thought his offer of her spending the night at Jack’s Bluff made sense, but admittedly there was no real reason to think the killer would return unless…

      Unless the killer actually was a deranged pervert and knew Kali was living alone on the isolated ranch. That thought continued to haunt him as he drove the few miles back to Jack’s Bluff.

      WORK MADE the day pass all too quickly and it was dusk before Kali took her first break. She poured herself a cup of tea and collapsed onto the wooden rocker that she’d polished to a glossy shine.

      The room looked a hundred percent better than it had this morning. The sofas’ worn upholstery was shampooed, and the ragged, dust-infused cotton throw rugs were resting in the bottom of the trash. A bedroom and the house’s one bathroom were just as clean. She’d tackle the kitchen tomorrow.

      The floorboards creaked beneath the movement of the rocker. She shifted and her gaze fell on the spot where she’d scrubbed the blood from the floorboards. The stain had almost completely disappeared, yet the scene she’d walked in on materialized vividly in her mind, sending a foreboding chill through her bloodstream.

      Kali took a deep breath that did little to settle her nerves, then grabbed her jacket and walked onto the porch for a bracing breath of cold air. She’d managed to keep the disturbing thoughts and fearsome questions at bay while she was struggling with the cleaning chores. Now they were claiming her mind and tightening her sore, aching muscles.

      She closed the door behind her and leaned against the porch railing, staring at the dirt drive that led away from the house and meandered its lonely way to the highway. The isolation closed in on her, attacking her self confidence. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in turning down Zach’s offer to spend the night with his family at Jack’s Bluff.

      Zach Collingsworth. His name played in her mind, then slipped from her lips with the frosty vapors of her breath. She’d wondered what it would be like to see him again, had thought she might not even recognize him. Mainly she’d hoped that the childish crush would seem stupid and something to laugh about now that they were both in their mid twenties.

      She should have been so lucky.

      At eleven he’d been cute. Now he was—in a word—gorgeous. Thick, dark hair, cut stylishly short, but long enough that a woman could sink her fingers into it. Lean, not too tall, but tall enough. He looked like a model, yet with that cowboy edge that made him reek of sensuality.

      And here she went, falling into the same Zach trap that she had years ago. But she couldn’t give in to the mind-numbing attraction this time. She needed all her wits about her. She had one year to make a go of the riding stables and training center before she ran out of money. One short year to make her dream a reality—or see it die.

      Pulling her jacket around her, she gave a last look into the growing darkness, then turned and went back inside. The piercing jangle of her cell phone startled her and sent her rushing to the kitchen to find it amidst the cleaning supplies.

      “Hello.”

      “Howdy.”

      Kali recognized the deep, slightly crusty voice even before the sheriff finished identifying himself.

      “How are things going out at the Silver Spurs?”

      “Fine, so far.”

      “That’s good to hear.”

      “Do you have any leads on a suspect?” she asked, hoping that was why he’d called.

      “No, but I thought you might like to know that we’ve identified the body. The woman’s name is Louisa Kellogg.”

      “Is she from Colts Run Cross?”

      “No. She was a student at the University of Houston. That’s about all I know for now, but I’m hoping we have some of the killer’s DNA on her somewhere. If not, there’s a good chance we have fingerprints from your door or the light switch, maybe even from the walls.”

      “Have you questioned anyone about her?”

      “Not yet, but don’t you worry. We’ll catch the killer. Right now I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

      Apprehension shook her resolve. “Why? Have you changed your mind about it being safe for me to stay here?”

      “Not at all. The killer’s likely from Houston just like his victim. He’ll probably stay way the hell away from the scene of the crime—pardon my French. In case he doesn’t, one of my best-trained deputies is keeping an eye on your place tonight.”

      “I appreciate that.”

      “Just don’t shoot him if he shines a light around the house to check things out. He ain’t much to look at, but his wife still likes having him around.”

      She smiled at the sheriff’s humor in spite of the fear that pummeled her nerves. Once she’d said goodbye and broken the connection, she struggled to push the situation to the back corners of her mind.

      She should fix something to eat and have a glass of wine, but first she needed a bath. The layers of dust and grime she’d cleaned from the house seemed embedded in her skin.

      She walked to the bathroom, turned on the faucet and stripped off her jeans, T-shirt and undies. Ex-hausted, she stepped into the claw-footed tub and sank into the hot water. By the time she’d lathered every inch of her body, she was so weary she could barely think.

      She’d forgotten to unpack the towels she’d brought with her so she padded to the bedroom for her old yellow fleece robe, dripping as she went. She snuggled into the robe and fell across the bed.

      The wind picked up, rattling the windows and pushing cold drafts around the sills. She closed her eyes, half expecting images of Louisa Kellogg’s body to creep into her mind.

      Instead it was Zach Collingsworth’s face that pushed through the fog of fatigue. As far as her heart was concerned, he might be the most dangerous dream of all.

      THE COLLINGSWORTH Sunday brunch had its roots more in a bribe than a treat for the taste buds. Lenora’s faith was all-important to her and when she’d first married Randolph she’d wanted him to share it. She’d promised to cook anything and everything he wanted if he’d go to church with her.

      Reluctantly, he’d agreed, but he’d put her to the test week after week, requesting one gourmet entree after another. The bribe had been a success on several levels. Randolph had eventually embraced her faith in God, her cooking skills had improved dramatically and the Collingsworth family brunch had become entrenched in their routine.

      A few years back, Lenora’s children had persuaded her to hire a cook so that she could have more time for herself. Now Sunday was the only day Lenora took over her kitchen. She made the most of it by planning ahead and delegating duties so that in under an hour after returning from early services at their church, the family was gathered at the table. She always served up old favorites and a couple of surprises. Today the surprises were crab bisque and raspberry scones topped with Chantilly cream.

      The doorbell rang just as her father-in-law Jeremiah finished saying grace, his voice growing so steady of late that at times he sounded almost like the pre-stroke Jeremiah.

      “That’s probably Melvin,” Langston said. “He was supposed to get back from a business trip to Dubai last night, and he said he was hungry for Texas cooking.”

      Lenora started to go for another plate, but her daughter Becky beat her to the task. Billy Mack, a brunch regular, scooted over a bit and made room for the extra chair Bart was already sliding into place.

      Melvin was Langston’s right-hand man at Collingsworth Oil. Jeremiah had hired him without consulting Langston, but Melvin had immediately proved his worth by suggesting changes that had increased their profits on a drilling project in the Gulf of Mexico by twenty percent.

      But that was business. It was his ready smile and terrific sense of humor that